A passage of swiftly moving time
by Elizabeth Martin
Summary: Enough with poetry and on to a story! My first phan phic from Erik's POV, trying to explain what happens between the acts of the ALW musical.
1. Before we begin

Disclaimer: Basically what everyone says and everyone knows.I do not own any characters you will find listed in the cast list of the ALW musical libretto.  
  
No one before has ever known about my life between the chandelier and the Masquerade. Of course, there has been speculation and rumor, but now I have chosen to share my story with you. I shouldn't really say story, since after all it is the truth. This is for those of you who don't understand. For those who do understand, I know that you've known and waited for the truth. Though it is not for you, please enjoy and continue to understand. 


	2. Feelings are explained

I disappeared quickly after letting the chandelier lose. I hadn't meant for it to go that far, but my temper had flared. Just as quickly it had returned to normal, and I regretted my rash action. I could've killed Christine. She would've become yet another victim of the mad walking corpse. I looked on in disgust as Raoul cuddled her in front of a full house. Of course no one was really paying attention to the syrupy scene in front of them. The women were all too busy fainting, while the men milled around remarking on how faulty the wiring must have been, or how desperate for business the managers must have been to think of such a plot. I grinned to myself about how some people never believe anything until it hits them in the face. Unfortunately, Christine is one of those people, and tonight it had hit her in the face, almost literally as well as figuratively.  
  
With a satisfying flip of my cape I made my way down to the House Beyond the Lake. I would wait for at least two days before venturing to the upper world. I thought about how closely my life was intertwined with the Opera. Just as the bottom floor is the foundation of the building, I was the foundation of the Opera people. Without me, they would all crumble, or die of boredom. People can't stand an Opera without a bit of scandal sprinkled in every once in awhile. My presence provided for a somewhat elegant scandal, instead of whoring Prima Donnas and drunken tenors. Though they surely cause excitement, they also are quite routine and predictable. What would the Opera do without me? I daresay they should thank me instead of trying to kill me. Unfortunately, the managers do not view the situation as I do.  
  
Let us say I was not surprised when I heard voices. I can tell where people are the moment they enter the third cellar. A rather clumsy mob had formed, presumably to hunt me down and do away with me. Good, I thought. It shall be a chance for me to have a little fun. 


	3. Self Salvation

(A/N: Thank you for the positive reviews! It really made my day, and makes me want to write. Also, probably most of you have seen the silent version of the POTO movie. My version of the lake is the version used in the movie, not the broad, wide expanse I get the feel of in the play. Perhaps I was just picking up on the wrong vibes though.Also, this might seem somewhat unorthodox to phantom phans and phantom phiction, but I never really thought of Erik being that old. I mean I couldn't really imagine him being fifty or sixty when the events at the opera house occurred, though I guess it makes sense, so that's why things in my story might seem weird. I kind of imagine him between the ages of 38-45.)  
  
The mob was small, and composed mainly of stagehands. They were old, bent men. Also highly superstitious. I had a feeling they had not come here because of some internal struggle for justice, but rather they saw it as a way to get a little extra money in their pockets on payday. For whatever the reason, I decided just to play on their superstition. There was no need to kill them.  
  
It was a fairly simple, basic plot. I used my voice, and the siren, and they were gone within minutes. It was so easy it really wasn't enjoyable. Nothing seemed enjoyable anymore. It almost seemed my life was settling into a routine. It was a frightening thought, and one that kept me busy for hours while I milled about my house and, in a final attempt at self preservation, went for a walk on the Rue Scribe.  
  
Dusk had fallen a mere twenty minutes before I slipped out of the passage. It was as though the sky and streetlamps could sense my discomfort and were dark and hushed. I became yet another shadow among shadows. Nothing different. Nothing changed. It was as though just having Christine around had set my life into a sort of everyday domesticity that I had never even dreamed of. I had become almost mellow. The chandelier incident had been the only really violent act I had done in months. In a way, it was a relief, but I was missing the constant action and excitement, the rush of energy powering through my veins as though encouraging me to make something of the day, grab the bull by the horns, and make my own destiny. It had not been that way for a long while.  
  
I had no time that night to mull over the young couples strolling through the park, hand in hand, or even just the people, walking along, being normal. I was too busy thinking of things. I had not really thought about myself, and it was time that I did. I was beginning to lose sight of everything I had plans for, and even sight of life itself. Normal routines might work for normal people, but I am definitely not a normal person. I began to think of plans. Plan after plan formulating in my mind in the short walk back to the Opera. I had saved my soul and myself in that short walk.  
  
Though it might sound as though Christine was far from my thoughts that evening, she really was the cause of the thoughts. I was still madly in love with her. I could not leave her to Raoul. He was pale and practically sickly, and when he spoke of guarding her I had almost laughed out loud. It seemed to me he needed to protecting more than she did. I knew Christine could do fine on her own, as she had demonstrated before. Soon Christine would tire of Raoul, and I would be there, waiting for her. I would win her my own way. With intelligence and strategy. Things that would never even occur to Vicomte to ever do, would be the things slowly tearing her away from him, and sliding her closer and closer to me. It was a plan that could not fail. 


	4. Information from the shadows, and a stra...

A/N: Thank you Ladylupin for your review! You don't know how much it means to me. Also, I know they never give Erik's name in the play, everyone likes it so I'm changing that too. "Phantom" is so impersonal isn't it?  
  
"Raoul, I'm worried," Christine exclaimed clutching his arm. "I have not heard from Erik for days. He could be doing any number of horrible things to himself or planning things to do on others."  
  
"Christine, you are the only person that views the Phantom's two week absence as a bad thing. Perhaps he has died, and we can live our lives in peace." If you could only imagine, I thought, watching Christine and Raoul from the shadows. It's really quite useful how people never check to shadows to see what's there.  
  
"Raoul!" Christine said, turning to face him, and grabbing his lapels. "You do not honestly think he is dead do you?"  
  
"I think there is a very good chance he's dead, and we are none the worse for it. The Opera will finally be a normal opera again."  
  
"Raoul, though you are very clever in some ways, the connection Erik has to this Opera is something you will never understand. If he died, it would be as though a part of the Opera died. Though he does horrible things, and at some times can be very frightening, everyone that works here is proud to have a phantom here. It's something that separates us from other operas. Anyone surviving a meeting with Erik is instantly famous. All of us are somewhat attached to him." Raoul said nothing and pulled Christine along.  
  
I smiled to myself. Christine coming to my defense was a good sign. My observance of them together and Christine alone had been very useful. I had learned a great many things. With this new knowledge, I descended through the cellars to my home. I had kept a running record of things said. Eventually I would have enough to begin the second part of my plan. I had not really fine tuned the details, but it was sure to be clever and unfathomable to anyone else but myself. Unfortunately it would have to be a solitary victory, as most of mine were.  
  
Gradually, over the course of the next week, I realized how much I was concentrating on my plan. It had become my main concern in life. It was what I slept, ate, and even breathed. Everything seemed to whisper Christine. Soon the pain began to come. I was a man of action, and the action was practically nonexistent. I began to slip into a sort of semi- depression. I had not felt this bad since that night three weeks ago when I went for a walk on the Rue Scribe.  
  
Working off of that thought, I once again went for a short midnight stroll. It was a lot later at night this time, and fall was starting to set in. The moonlight reflecting of f the trees and water was eerie. I was so caught up in my reflection, I did not notice the young woman walking to path ahead of me. I barely avoided running into her, but she did not seem to notice. Turning, I looked over at her. She was gazing up at the moon, and the hood of her cloak had slipped down. To all my shock and astonishment, it was my Christine!  
  
Let us just say it did not do my already suffering nerves and thoughts any good to see the cause of them standing right there in front of me. Luckily, she was so caught up in her own thoughts, she did not feel my intense stare. Before I turned to leave, I heard her saying something, most likely to herself. I strained my ears and managed to catch only the last part. ".and please protect him, and keep him, and forgive him for his harsh words and actions. Please also help me to forgive him for the sins against me and the other. I am waiting and ready." With the end of the strange prayer she ran off in the direction of the Opera main entrance. I was curious as to why Christine would be running around outside the opera on an autumn night praying.  
  
But the question was, who was the fortunate recipient of Christine's prayer? The answer was obvious. For the last three days, I had not seen Raoul around at all. They had obviously quarreled. It was a happy opportunity for me, but I knew I would have to act on it quickly. Even three days was long for a young lover's spat. Already she was waiting for him to apologize. Obviously the other person he had sinned against was me in his death wishes. After all, it's never very attractive to wish people dead. My head filled with new ideas, I rushed back to the House Beyond the Lake to begin planning and plotting. 


	5. An unexpected visitor

I awoke with a start to find myself lying on the keys of the organ. I had fallen asleep on it while trying to work the night before. I didn't know what had moved me to play it. I was not inspired to compose for my opera. I had just been playing for pleasure, I suppose, when sleep finally came. It was also unusual because I normally do not sleep. All in all it had been a very unusual night.  
  
Then, I heard it. My sensitive hearing had picked up the familiar cry. I rushed out of the house. Christine's cry echoed through the twists and turns. With an almost sort of hesitance I got in a boat and poled my way to her.  
  
She was there waiting. She was a sickly white and she was wringing her hands. The cloak she was wearing was draped about her shoulders. I was curious as to what business was so urgent to bring her to me in such a careless hurry. I was somewhat upset. Christine's appearance upset my plans. I was somewhat snappish with her when I pulled the boat up.  
  
"What were you thinking, you foolish girl, to come down here with your cloak not properly on? You know how cold it can get down here, yet you insist on standing down here for minutes on end with your cloak practically hanging off your shoulders."  
  
"I know it was foolish Erik, but I had no choice. The situation which brought me here was of such importance, and needed such urgency I did not stop to think about myself. I am fine as you can see. Now am I to get in the boat or not?" She talked to me with such authoritative command, all I could do was gesture helplessly. She got in and sat. I shoved off and poled silently towards the entrance to the house. I offered her my hand to help her get out, but she ignored it and got out quickly and gracefully herself. I opened the door for her, and we went inside. She walked in and sat down as if it were her home and not mine. I was beginning to get angry.  
  
"All right," I said through clenched teeth. "Now that you are here and have made yourself at home what is this problem you have spoken of? I'm warning you Christine if it is something frivolous.."  
  
"Oh stop it!" she said, and began to cry. "Do you know how hard it is for me to even come down here? I know you're mad at me, and I even know that it's possible you want to kill me. If you do, please listen to me first. Please help me Erik, you are my only hope." (A/N: Star Wars fans? LOL, just thought I'd add that in! Anyway back to the story.) I was taken aback at this violent outburst and just sat there, nodding dumbly. Christine took a moment to calm herself, and began her story. 


	6. An interesting narrative

A/N: Just so nobody gets confused, this whole chapter is Christine talking. It's not her POV, just Christine narrating her story.  
  
"It all began last week. Raoul and I were eating lunch at a little restaurant when suddenly a man came up to us. He told something to Raoul in a low voice, I could not understand any words but the word 'opera'. I asked Raoul about it after the man left, but he brushed the questions off saying it was business, nothing I should concern myself with. I thought nothing of it until I saw the same man poking around the house during a rehearsal one afternoon. I had not gotten a good look at his face when he had spoken to Raoul, only that he seemed to be a common man. That opinion was further enforced when I saw him a second time.  
  
He was somewhat dirty, and his hair was hidden under a cap. One of his front teeth was missing, as I found when he tipped his cap at me and smiled. I was somewhat repulsed by him, but also incredibly curious as to what he was doing. M. Reyer chose that moment to yell at me for not paying attention, and when I had the opportunity to look again the man was not to be found. Although I was curious, I put him out of my mind. I did not see him again until two days ago, under completely different circumstances.  
  
I was walking to my dressing room after rehearsal one afternoon. I had not done so for a while, so you could say it was not routine. As you know, my room is at the end of a poorly lit corridor. As I entered the corridor, I saw someone at my door. I recognized the man, and was upset. I rushed up to him, and asked what he was doing. He replied, sounding somewhat surprised, that he was checking the locks on certain doors to see if they all corresponded with a certain key. I did not believe him for a second, so I sent him on his way and went inside. I figured he had been trying to break into my room. The shock of this was enough to send me into a deep confusion. Let us just say I did not get any rest that afternoon. I decided I would discuss this problem with Raoul since I was meeting with him that night for dinner.  
  
We were sitting at the restaurant when I told Raoul I had seen the man that had talked to him at lunch. He almost seemed to choke, and when he finally recovered enough, he told me not to worry about it at all, because it was nothing I needed to be involved in. I told him I felt I did need to be involved in it if he was going to be associated with people trying to break into my dressing room at strange hours of the day. He looked slightly surprised again, but assured me he'd talk to the person and clear things up. He assured me it wouldn't happen again. By this time I was somewhat wary of what Raoul said relating to this man. Therefore, I was not surprised when I saw them talking this morning. I heard the words 'mirror' and 'phantom'. I immediately rushed to my room and used the mirror to come down here and worn you before they could come down here and do you harm." 


	7. Dealing with an annoying obstacle

A/N: Ever wondered why they never again used the mirror as a way to get to the house beyond the lake? This chapter explains why.  
  
I sat there, slightly amused, while Christine sat there taking deep breaths. She was so set upon getting her story told that I believe she only took three or four breaths during the duration. I was surprised she had not died from lack of oxygen to her brain. She looked over at me expectantly.  
  
"Please say something Erik. Please."  
  
"All right. I appreciate you taking the time to come down here and warn me. It was very thoughtful and compassionate of you to risk your life so I could save my own."  
  
"Is that irony I hear in your voice Erik? When I have come down here all you can give me is irony?"  
  
"My dear girl, in case you have not noticed, everyone receives irony from me whether it would be the Queen of England offering to knight me or an overdramatic young girl taken away by her fancies," I replied coldly.  
  
"Oh Erik, stop it! I came down here because I was concerned! I cannot let Raoul kill you!"  
  
"Christine, think sensibly! You know how I hate irrationality! I have all of the Opera at my command. Do you really think a young, inexperienced fop like the Vicomte could do me any harm?" Christine's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Raoul is not a fop! If I am so irrational, Monsieur, than kindly return me to the surface. At once," Christine said, folding her arms and standing up.  
  
"Your wish is my command as always," I replied, rising. We poled once again in silence to the edge of the lake. All though she most likely did not want me to accompany her any farther, I pulled her along through the labyrinth and to the mirror entrance. Christine was about to walk through when I grabbed her arm and pulled her back.  
  
"What."she started to ask. I hissed a warning of silence and we stood there watching as the Vicomte and the man from Christine's story stood there in front of the mirror. The other man was welding around the edge of the mirror. It seemed to take a while to dawn on Christine what was going on. Within minutes he was completed, since he had started before we arrived. The two of them left, and vainly, Christine through herself against the mirror. It did not budge. This entrance was now blocked. Of course I knew welding could be reversed, but I also knew it was a lengthy process. I didn't think it would be worth it.  
  
"How do we get out?" she said turning to me. I gestured for her to follow.  
  
"You did not think yours was the only mirror I had rigged with the spring mechanism and double sided glass?" She nodded helplessly, and followed me through a short passage to a room a few rooms away from her own.  
  
"Good day Mademoiselle," I said as she left. She didn't even turn. 


	8. A new solution

A/N: To any of you who may have misunderstood me in the last chapter: it's Christine that says Raoul's not a fop. I think he's a big fop. (Fireworks exploding in background) Yay!  
  
My plans were temporarily halted when Christine left the Opera the following afternoon. No one knew why. It was somewhat discouraging. Of course, it would not stop things for long. Nothing ever stopped me for long. My life had been full of these obstacles, and I had defeated all of them. This was minor, and would be easily overcome.  
  
The answer came after a short period of contemplation. I had completely forgotten to work one side of the problem. Christine was not the only part of the Raoul/Christine problem. I would spend my next few days dealing with Raoul.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
I found the young man in the manager's office at around five o'clock on the day Christine left. He was badgering the managers about anything Christine might have left to indicate her whereabouts or the reasons she had left. The two were about as baffled as the Vicomte. When they finally made it clear to him they had no idea, he stormed out of the office. I was not far behind.  
  
The first place he went, of course, was Christine's dressing room. He tested the mirror to make sure it was still stuck in place. It was still very stuck. Satisfied she had not run away to me, or more likely, I had not kidnapped her, he left the room. He did not notice me lurking in the shadowy corner. Then again, no one ever did, as I have mentioned. I wondered how long I could go without being discovered. I'm sure it could be a fairly long time. I hope that after the plan had been carried out, everyone even remotely connected would try to become more aware of their surroundings.  
  
All though it went against every gentlemanly instinct in my body, I decided to search Christine's room to see if I could determine the reason for her flight. Deep down I felt it had been me, and as it turned out, I was correct. All it said on the diary entry was that she could not stand it anymore. She had to get away. But away where? It did not say, and I cursed the pages. The day was not shaping up to be a good one. Remembering the main purpose of the day, M. de Chagny that is, I left the room and went to find him again.  
  
I discovered the Vicomte wandering the halls. He seemed to be playing detective, walking slowly down each new dark and dusty corridor, tapping on the floor and walls. No secret passageways or storage areas were found. All the Vicomte found was an unused storage closet full of decaying rat carcasses. It was definitely not what he was looking for, and he quickly gave up on his game. He did not seem to be having much fun, or much luck.  
  
"Phantom!"  
  
The Vicomte's voice sliced through the thick air like a sharpened knife. I looked on curiously as he continued to yell for me. Would I answer his call? Would I be perhaps answering a challenge instead? The answer to most questions was definitely yes. I had not had any fun in such a long time. Eventually I would forgive myself for picking on such easy prey. 


	9. The confrontation

A/N: Thank you so much everyone for your reviews, especially my frequent reviewer L.M! It makes my day to get those reviews!  
  
"Yes Monsieur?" I said sliding out of the shadows. I could tell by his reaction he had not expected me to answer. Had he not learned anything? I see and hear all.  
  
"Good Lord," the Vicomte said to himself. "What have you done with Christine?" he demanded.  
  
"Absolutely nothing." The intensity of my gaze was started to make him uncomfortable.  
  
"Liar!" he yelled, stepping forward.  
  
"Ah, maybe, Monsieur de Chagny, but can you prove it? When you checked the mirror only moments ago, it was still welded shut."  
  
"You followed me!" he exclaimed, stepping forward again. Every heated sentence brought him one step closer to his own destruction. I most likely could even keep my conscience in check, since he looked as though he was about ready to attack. It would be a death in self defense. I, of course, was ready.  
  
"Of course. When you trespass, you pay the price. No one gave you permission to roam about the Opera." My face had transformed into a smirk, and it was driving the Vicomte closer.  
  
"I am it's patron damn it! I can do whatever I please!" The Vicomte was now only five steps from death.  
  
"Does owning a cat suddenly make it obey you? No, Monsieur. It follows only its own soul and instinct. You are not even the Opera's master, and I am its soul. There is no way you can defeat me without destroying the Opera." The Vicomte had begun to circle around me, in an attempt to unsettle me I suppose.  
  
"A pretty speech from a horrid mouth." He had decided to change his tactic from outright to subtle insult. It was not anything I hadn't heard before, and I was beginning to tire of the Vicomte and his prep school strategy.  
  
He was behind me when I heard the air whistle. I turned just in time to catch the board flying at my head. I wrestled it easily away from the surprised boy, and threw it.  
  
"You are nothing more than a boy, Monsieur. Did you honestly think you could defeat me with such an underhanded ungentlemanly trick? Really, I honestly thought even an empty headed fop like you could think of something more original. As much as I would like to kill you, I do not feel right even challenging a person of such inferior skill. Go, and return to me when you have become more of a man. It's no wonder Christine went away. Instead of a lover she has a baby chicken." This last insult did it. The Vicomte charged at me, and attempted to hit me. I blocked myself, and very quickly my fist made contact with his jaw. He was found unconscious later that afternoon, covered in set paint and woodchips. 


	10. An informant in the shape of a letter

It was another three weeks before the managers heard anything from Christine. Of course, her departure threw the Opera into a panic. Christine's newfound status as a Prima Donna was short lived. My threats could be no help if there was no Christine. Carlotta once again took over. I was getting too upset to do anything to her, though it was always a lot of fun.  
  
Even when Christine got upset, she never went off without telling anyone. Perhaps I had not been consulting the correct people. I never talked to anyone if I had a choice. I decided I would have to pay a visit to the ballet rats.  
  
I always heard lots of Opera gossip from the secret panel inside their practice room. It was always good material for blackmail, but apparently, Christine's disappearance was old news. Now they were talking about meaningless things like ribbons and costumes, and boys I had never heard of. I was about to leave when Meg Giry came into the room. A young English girl named Jocelyn came up to her and handed her an envelope. She then whispered something in her ear. My heart lifted. Christine, Meg, and Jocelyn were all good friends. If there would be any news from Christine it would be given to those two.  
  
Meg ripped open the envelope, and carelessly tossed it on the floor. Her eyes quickly scanned the paper. By this time, all the other ballet rats had left to begin rehearsal on stage, and Jocelyn and Meg were the only two girls left. They were both reading the letter, and smiling to each other. Suddenly, Madame Giry's voice yelled for them, and in their haste, they also carelessly dropped the letter.  
  
I quickly slipped out of the secret compartment and into the room, picking up both letter and envelope. Just as I was about to go back into the secret panel, a young one came in. She took one look at me and froze. I tipped my hat to her. In return all she could do was pass out. No one has any manners these day.  
  
I waited until arriving at my house to read the letter. Upon reaching my sofa, I examined the envelope. Christine was careful. She put no return address on the envelope, and she of course did not put a seal on the wax that closed the envelope. I don't know why I thought she would. The letter proved to be somewhat useful. I suppose she had figured no one but Jocelyn and Meg would see the letter, but still she was very vague about her location and who she was with. Perhaps Meg and Jocelyn already knew. I would, perhaps, have to leave them a letter from myself. Maybe they would be a little more careful with it. The letter read as follows.  
  
Dearest M and J,  
It is quite lovely here. I spend my days doing nothing of consequence. I am healthy, and am getting lots of rest. Only, sometimes I worry about you all at the Opera. How are things going without me? You will apologize to the managers for the inconvenience. I know it has probably caused them lots of trouble, but there was no way around it. Life was just getting too complicated, what with Raoul pressuring me to marry him, and Erik ignoring me. I could hardly stand it anymore. That's another good thing about this place. I have all the time in the world to think. Perhaps it is the air. It is said to be much cleaner. When I return home, I shall confront Erik. If he does not explain himself, I shall be forced to do something drastic. I have not quite thought of what yet, but perhaps my other decision will inadvertently solve both problems, for I know it will solve one. I shall refuse Raoul's offer of marriage, and if he asks me one more time, I shall tell him we can never speak to each other again. I know Erik is mad because of all the time I've spent with Raoul, and I hope I can make it up to him somehow. I shall be returning in three days time.  
  
I laughed out loud. So she was going to refuse the boy's hand! It would make him go absolutely mad, and then the fun would really start. I wondered how Christine would react to the Vicomte's tale of our skirmish. He would probably twist it around so that he was knocked unconscious defending her honor. I was anxious to see what the boy would come up with.  
  
Imagine what the world would be like without young, stupid, rich people. They provide me with endless amusement. Though that fact is true, let me say, I would be delighted when the time came that I could finally kill the Vicomte. I don't know how I knew, but someday I just know that the boy will end up in my rope, and Christine will be standing there watching. It will be a most enjoyable experience. 


	11. Work and an apology

Now, my dear Reader, I suppose you are wondering what I did in the three days before Christine's return. I could very easily lie and say I was being as cool and calculated as ever, and you would believe me, since you are either ignorant of my character and have believed everything I've said, or you know me, and trust what I say. Don't worry, I shall not abuse that trust. In all honesty, I don't know how I earned it. But after all, I am telling you this so you know the truth.  
  
I was an absolute wreck. I spent all three days in the House Beyond the Lake, composing for my opera. I don't really know what I was feeling. For some reason I was not happy, though it had been three and one half weeks since seeing my dear Christine. The months had gone by rapidly. It had been July when I had dropped the chandelier. Now it was early October, and the leaves outside had begun to fall. Even if I did not go outside, I could always tell the changing of seasons by the subtle changes in temperature down on the lake.  
  
I had not slept or ate any of the three days. It had been work, work, work, and I did not even know three whole days had gone by when I heard a knock at my door. Looking around, I noticed the state of things. The drawing room was an absolute mess, and I as well. I had not bothered to change the three days as well. My clothes were crumpled to say the least. I shoved some things under sofa cushions before straightening myself up as best I could, and answering the door.  
  
It was her of course. She faintly smiled at me as I invited her inside, and apologized for the mess. I was extremely curious as to how she had gotten here, and was just as surprised when I saw the boat.  
  
She was just standing in the drawing room when I went in. I asked her to sit, and went and made some tea. She poured it for both of us, and we sat in silence, occasionally looking at each other when the other wasn't looking. This dragged on for quite some time.  
  
"Erik, I am sorry I left so suddenly without telling you. I just needed to get away," she finally said, setting down her empty cup.  
  
"Do not apologize," I replied. "For I know it was my fault. I was extremely rude to you the day before, and there is no excuse for that behavior." I do believe I was as surprised at my gentle response as she was. It was as though a whole new side of me had been let out, a side of me I was not aware existed. (A/N: Yet a side we all know and love, right?) Christine just smiled and bowed her head. We sat in silence once again. I was getting tired of sitting, so I stood up and walked around. When I got near the organ, Christine jumped up.  
  
"I know this is short notice, and you are probably very tired, may I have a lesson? I have not sung these three weeks, and I fear I am a bit rusty. I cannot be a Prima Donna with an imperfect voice." I looked over at her in surprise.  
  
"Have you not spoken to the managers yet?"  
  
"No," she replied. "I came straight here. It was troubling me that we were not on good terms the whole time I was gone." I sighed. I would rather not have been the one to give her the news about Carlotta, but it appears I would have to be the bearer of bad news.  
  
"Christine, I know this may sound harsh, but did you honestly think you could pull a stunt like this and still be the Prima Donna when you were already on thin ice? Carlotta has taken over your role, and her understudy has taken over hers. I assume if you went to see the managers immediately they would let you have Carlotta's old part." Throughout this, her face had changed from a smile to a blank face. It was as though she did not understand.  
  
"But didn't you say anything for me?" "Christine," I replied, looking straight at her. "Though I normally would do that, I cannot do anything for you if you are not here."  
  
"Of course," she said shrinking back into the sofa. "I should have realized that. I know you would've tried if you could. Forgive me, I do not feel well. Perhaps I can come by tomorrow?" I nodded.  
  
"Have you seen the Vicomte yet?" Christine was surprised at my question, and shook her head. She rose, and I offered to take her back. She gracefully accepted, and we left the House Beyond the Lake. 


	12. A plot is discovered

I did not sleep that night because I wasn't tired. I looked around to find something for Christine and I to work on at the lesson. It had been at least four months since we had a lesson, and her skill level had increased. Perhaps, I thought, I should just compose some little pieces. That is just what I decided to do. I spent all night composing three arias, with uncomplicated rhythms. They would be easy to learn.  
  
Christine came as expected at ten o'clock the next morning. We had a pleasant morning. I will not go into specific details, not because I don't wish for you to know, but I'm sure you can imagine a lesson yourself. We had lunch at noon, and then she returned to the surface.  
  
She had done as I asked, and went to the managers. They immediately gave her the part, and she started at rehearsals. I was there, of course, watching from my box. Carlotta was not pleased, and made it clear that she was not happy about Christine's involvement. But, there was nothing she could do about it, so she went on.  
  
Rehearsal ended abruptly at five o'clock, like it always did on Thursdays. Everyone left, and soon only M. Reyer and Carlotta were left on the stage.  
  
"M. Reyer!" Carlotta exclaimed, coming up to him. "What is that girl doing in this opera? I thought we had gotten rid of her!"  
  
"I am sorry Signora, but I tried my hardest. She refused to stay, and only wanted to come back here and sing. I cannot, in my heart of hearts, deny anyone whose only wish is to sing."  
  
"Oh stop it!" Carlotta yelled. "We had made a deal! I held up my end of the bargain! You have an extra fifty thousand francs in your pocket, but that wench is still on stage! I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT!" She had advanced on M. Reyer, and he looked like a rabbit being cornered by a fox. As much as I hated M. Reyer for his part in the plot just outlined before my eyes, I couldn't leave him to die by Carlotta. If anyone was going to kill him, it would be me. How dare he even think of participating in such a scheme?  
  
"Now, now," I said, throwing my voice all over the place. Carlotta stopped mid-charge, and looked up, her face turning a sickly white. "I'm sure we can all think of better ways to spend our time. After all, such behavior may induce me to violence. We don't want that do we?" Both people seemed to be temporarily paralyzed. Suddenly, with an ear shattering soprano shriek, Carlotta ran offstage. M. Reyer was left by himself.  
  
"Monsieur Phantom?" he said weakly. I did not answer, but he kept talking. "Please do not hurt me! What I did was not meant to harm anyone! I did not know the Signora wanted the young mademoiselle permanently gotten rid of! That is why I brought her back!" For some reason, I actually believed him. This new side of me was becoming increasingly troublesome.  
  
"Go then, man!" I yelled. "And may you never trouble me again!" He scuttled off rather quickly. Smiling to myself, I tapped on the column and was about to go back to the House Beyond the Lake when I realized how much time I had spent there recently. There were some parts of the Opera I had not been in for months. I decided I would take a walk. I don't know if I would've if I had known what things I would discover. 


	13. My own dark home

A/N: This is going to be a longer chapter!  
  
I happily roamed the corridor for hours before I heard it. In fact, I was on my way home when I decided to stop by Christine's mirror. Perhaps I wanted to tell Christine of the plot against her. Perhaps I just wanted to see her again. I don't know what made me want to stop there. Perhaps somewhere within me, some primitive feeling warned me of something not quite right. Even so, I was not prepared for it.  
  
Christine and Raoul were together in Christine's room, sitting on the couch. They were discussing something in low voices, trying not to be overheard. Of course, I have particularly sensitive hearing.  
  
"Raoul," Christine said. "I have tried telling you this before. He does not have a set pattern, or daily routine. He does what he wants, when he wants."  
  
"Damn. Are you sure there's absolutely no time you know he's home?"  
  
"No. Unless we're having a lesson. He always keeps his appointments then. Oh, but Raoul, I cannot schedule a lesson only so you can do him harm!" I was thunderstruck. Here was the woman I loved, and her lover, discussing how they were going to kill me! I had been betrayed, and as betrayed as a man can be.  
  
"Christine, you cannot let your sense of duty and honor get in the way of this. Remember? He has already killed once, and we must assume he lived somewhere else before here where he also killed. People like him don't just kill once, it's in their blood. An unsatisfied urge. You cannot save him." Nor can she save you! I thought, and tried to find the switch to open the mirror. Too late I remembered it was welded shut. They heard me.  
  
"Raoul! He's here, he's heard! We neither of us are safe!" She was absolutely hysterical. He tried to comfort her. I was too disgusted with myself for making such an amateur mistake. I stormed to the roof. Night had fallen, and I was safe. Safe in the arms of darkness, the only mother I had known.  
  
"Why?" I asked the sky. "Why must you always curse me? You finally make me capable of having human emotion, then you mock me by letting me know it is never possible." I received no answer. I had not expected one. I did not even believe in God. Of course he would not answer me.  
  
I climbed to the top of the statue and just sat there. Soon I began crying. The scene seemed so fresh in my mind. Once again I was stuck here. Once again, I was reliving that night three months ago when Christine had first betrayed me to the Vicomte. Now I was here again, reliving only moments ago when she had once again betrayed me. Only this time, the stakes had been higher. This time, the stakes had been set for my life. I didn't know if it was worth it anymore. There was nothing.  
  
I had nothing, I was nothing, and there was nothing to live for. I was just an unhappy man, on top of a roof. Music had even seemed to desert me. There was nothing but a vast empty space. That's when I first thought of it.  
  
I felt like I wanted to be part of the vast empty space. It wasn't that far away, just over the edge of the Opera roof. It would take no time at all to reach there. Once I got there, I would never have to worry about Christine, or the Vicomte, or love, or anything ever again. I would be part of the vast nothingness. It was where I belonged.  
  
I was so close to the edge when I heard a voice behind me.  
  
"Don't do it. Please don't." I turned my head, and saw someone I was not expecting to see.  
  
"Mademoiselle, what are you doing here at this time of night? There are other things I'm sure you can be doing." Meg Giry just stood there, sighing.  
  
"Let's just say I'm doing a favor for a friend. Stop."  
  
"You know nothing of me."  
  
"I know enough. That is why I am not scared. Please, just stop." She had kept a calm, steady voice throughout this whole conversation.  
  
"You don't know why I'm here. Christine and that stupid boy are plotting to kill me Mademoiselle. Tell me, isn't that a good reason to surrender to the darkness?" She sighed again.  
  
"You know she is still lost. Only you can help her find what she's looking for."  
  
"All right. Now where's the Vicomte? He should be around here waiting to push me off while I'm distracted."  
  
"If you looked down and too the left, you will see his carriage driving away. Christine is in her dressing room crying. Now goodnight Monsieur." With that, she went back down the steps. I looked back down over the edge. Suddenly, it wasn't the vast nothingness anymore. It was Paris. I did not want to jump into Paris. I returned to my own darkness. 


	14. The music of darkness, betrayal, and pas...

A/N: Now, I'm pretty sure that with that dramatic a climax I would've gotten more reviews than just one (Thank you L.M)! I have less reviews than the number of chapters I've written, and I would really appreciate it if I got more. You don't have to say much, just nice job, thanks, or even hey this sucks. It would be nice to hear from people. Also, I just thought that maybe some of you would get confused with the last chapter and think I was trying to make it a Meg/Erik. Nope. Like it said, she's just doing a favor for a friend.  
I was wrong about something that night on the roof of the Opera. My music had not deserted me. It was to be my lifeline for the next months. Without it, I surely would've killed myself. It stayed with me, and provided me with the companionship and comfort that only music can bring. It surrounded me, and made me forget the outside world.  
  
But this music also did things to me. It was as though the price for this comfort was it lodging a bit in my soul everyday. This would not have been a bad thing if it had been nice music. It was not. It was music of darkness, betrayal and passion. Of men and women. Of lust and need. Of doom and destruction. It filled my head and soul. I thought of little else, and hardly ate, drank or slept. It did not seem to be necessary.  
  
Each passing day, new hate built up inside of me for Christine and the Vicomte. Unfortunately, I still loved her. I say unfortunately, because it was the only thing that held me back. Without that love I would've been free to wallow in my hatred, and live a contented life. Even if I was wallowing in hate, I would not have acted on it. It would have been easier than the constant struggle that seemed to always be raging in my head. That small bit of good was just barely less powerful than the large quantities of darkness. It slowly began tearing me apart.  
  
I spent my days and nights writing and playing, except for an hour, in which I normally just got up and walked around, or read the newspaper. Even I could not compose that dark music every hour of everyday. It was just too tiring. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't make myself. My thoughts would drift back to the unfinished phrase, or a new melody would right itself in my head. It was a never ending process. It seemed as though I would never end it. But suddenly one day, it ended itself. Just as I was ready to go on my break on December second, it struck me. I was done with my supposed life's work. I had always told myself I would die once I finished this piece of work, but now that I had finished it, it was absolutely not a possibility.  
  
First of all, there was no question in my mind I would present it to the manager's and make the company perform it. It would be my revenge on everyone. Who had the smallest part? Carlotta of course. The largest? Christine. That may not sound like I was upset at all, but it was not the honor it sounded at first. It would be a role she would not like performing one bit. I made absolutely sure of it.  
  
But what you ask was I going to do about the Vicomte? I had accepted it was probably not Christine's idea to kill me. All though sometimes Christine could be strong and almost bullheaded, there would be other times when you could talk her into anything. The Vicomte had taken advantage of one of these low moments to act on his plan. Fortunately I had interfered. In all honesty, I had no idea what to do with the Vicomte. I would have to think hard about it. He deserved a fate ten times worse than anyone. Of all the people to think of such a punishment, I was the one person who would plan it to perfection, and carry it out seamlessly as well. When it came to revenge, no one could do it as well as I. I had just begun. Who could predict what horrors would fall upon Paris? Not even I. 


	15. A note is written, a costume is selected

A/N: Sorry about the wait.school started up again. You know how it is.  
  
The best way to get to the Vicomte, I decided, was through Christine. I had often heard Christine telling stories from Sweden to the youngest members of the ballet troupe, involving the old Viking Gods, and other old Scandinavian legends, heroes and villains. Using this as my guide, I began researching. I soon found the perfect deity for my purpose. It was the Goddess Hel, keeper of the underworld. Her hall, (the place in which she dwelt) was called Elvidnir, or misery. There was nothing more perfect.  
  
Unfortunately, I could not be a goddess for the masquerade. It wouldn't be very scary, and it just was not the way I operated. I would have to find a different costume. But that was not a main concern at the moment. Revenge had seeped through my veins, and drove at my mind and soul. The only way to rid myself of it would be to act on it. Immediately.  
  
I slipped the note under the door ten minutes before rehearsal was scheduled to end. The Vicomte had been coming back to Christine's room with her after rehearsals, and I knew he would today. His life was all routine. It never seemed to change.  
  
I had just gotten in place behind the mirror when the walked in. Christine picked up the envelope, and silently handed it to the Vicomte. He ripped it open and begun reading it. He finished, and looked at Christine questioningly.  
  
"I thought you said this phantom was a genius."  
  
"Oh, he is," she replied nodding.  
  
"Well obviously not. Listen to this:  
  
Sir,  
  
Please make no further attempts on my life. I assure you, you shall rest with Hel before I do if you try again.  
  
I had not signed the letter, but obviously they both knew it was from me. Christine snatched the letter out of his hands and began to read it.  
  
"For a genius he cannot spell very well. Everyone can spell Hell, and speaking of which, how the devil can I rest with hell? I know I can rest in it, but." He was cut short as Christine grabbed his arm.  
  
"You do not know what this means Raoul. Hel is the Viking goddess of the underworld, her home is called "Misery". Oh Raoul, Erik is saying he shall kill you if you do not stop plotting to kill him!"  
  
"Of course that's what he's saying. That's the only hard part about trying to kill someone, they are probably also trying to kill you."  
  
"But Raoul, he actually can kill you! I can't have you risking your life over something this stupid." I laughed to myself. Even now Christine still admitted that the boy could not kill me.  
  
"Are you saying I could not kill the phantom?" Raoul had straightened, and stared at her.  
  
"I do not mean to offend you Raoul, but yes. He has outsmarted you before, and you know how dangerous he is. You were lucky to escape that encounter with him alive. Now he is angry with you. Be careful Raoul. Once he has said you are to die, you might as well begin picking out your casket." Raoul turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Suddenly ideas began formulating in my head. The way Christine had declared it, she made it sound as though my will brought on some sort of fatal disease. A disease that ensured death almost immediately. It came to me at once.  
  
In my younger days when I had more time on my hands, I occasionally read books. One such book was by an American named Edgar Allen Poe. I was especially drawn to his work by the morbidity of all of his stories and poems. One of my favorites had been "The Masque of Red Death." It was about a young Prince who thought he could avoid the Red Death epidemic by staying in his castle with all of his friends until the epidemic ended or everyone died basically. One night he had a grand masquerade, with so many people invited they took up seven of the rooms in the Prince's palace. Everyone was having a jolly time until the clock struck midnight. A figure shrouded in red appeared, with blood on his vest and on his brow. His face looked like a corpse. To make the rest of the story shorter, the Red Death killed the Prince, and within half an hour all the rest of the guests had died also. It proved that you cannot hide from death.  
  
It would be the perfect guise. I would not have to wear my mask, and only Christine really knew what my face looked like. I of course meant to make my identity known, but perhaps temporary anonymity would serve me for my purpose. I set out at once to get things arranged. Though the specter in the story was only ".shrouded in head to foot with the habiliments of the grave," I would need something a bit more magnificent. After all, I needed to make an impression. I needed to scare them. It would be my night. My Opera. 


	16. Acceptance and rage, with horrible conse...

IMPORTANT: This is my last chapter before the grand finale chapter/chapters (undecided). Since I'm somewhat depressed at the lack of reviews I've received on this story, I will not be writing the finale until I get ten reviews from DIFFERENT people. (Sorry L.M!) Please do this quickly! I'm as anxious to finish the story as some of you are to read it!  
  
It was the fifteenth of December, and there was considerable tension mounting around the Opera. The preparation of the Masquerade was beginning to get on people's nerves, and wear their patience thin. Christine on the other hand had a perfectly legitimate excuse to be nervous though. I was using every power of persuasion and fear within my soul, and the delicate spell I was casting around Christine both frightened and mesmerized her. She was going to be exactly where I wanted her to be by the time the Masquerade commenced on New Year's Eve.  
  
The Vicomte had stayed away after Christine's unintended insult. It was a full four days before he came back, begging her forgiveness and reconciling them. I watched in disgusted amusement. They acted like two people terribly in love around the Opera, always whispering to each other, with Christine giggling and the Vicomte gazing lovingly in her eyes. It was such an exaggeration of how people really acted, that I often laughed at the sheer lunacy of it all.  
  
But perhaps, dear Reader, you are wondering why I did not feel threatened or hurt by the couple's apparent bliss? It is because I knew what was really going on. Christine assured herself she did love him every night, but one night she was thinking out loud, she also convinced herself that her pretending to be more in love with them than she was, was absolutely necessary. It would help her save him. It would be better not to think about any future consequences since it was not the future. She was pretending to be very much in love with him so I would not hurt him. It was an almost brilliant plan. Too bad it wouldn't work.  
  
I spent more and more of my time observing the Vicomte and Christine. I really could stand the boy no longer, since almost daily his hired thugs proceeded to try to locate and terminate me. Of course, none of them ever came close, and it was all very amusing, but my already thin patience was at the breaking point, and it was about to snap. Not only would it be dangerous to everyone, but it would be very unpleasant. It was either him or me that had to go. I wasn't going anywhere. I had been here longer.  
  
With that thought in mind, I starting making plans. Plans to kill the Vicomte. I would not torture him or make him die a slow death, because his offenses against me were not bad enough to make me use treatment of that kind. I just needed him dead. It would be a quick, almost painless death using a poison I had brought back from Persia. The day of the Masquerade I would put it in his glass when he was with Christine. Christine would not drink anything. I would find a way to tell her not too. I would then find a way to distract Christine so she had to leave the room. The Vicomte would drink the poison, die instantly, and I would carry him off to the next room through the mirror. He would stay with me for a few hours, and I would properly make him a victim of the Red Death. It would be a fitting addition to my display. After all, anyone who touched the Red Death died. It was my best plan yet.  
  
Fifteen days went slowly by. I picked up my costume and made arrangements. Christine and the Vicomte were also picking up their costumes, and the Vicomte had the perfect costume for a victim of the Red Death. I impatiently waited for the next day, and devoted the whole afternoon to observance. I had learned the more you learned about the enemy the better you were. I was now the best or worst, I guess you could say, enemy in the world.  
  
It was about six o'clock in the evening when I happened to be observing the Vicomte and Christine in her room. I was about to leave out of sheer boredom when suddenly their dull conversation took a serious turn.  
  
"Christine, you know I have always loved you, and I would cut my heart out and give it to you if I could," Raoul said, moving closer to her on the small couch. Christine did not take him seriously at first.  
  
"Though it's a very kind thought Raoul, I assure in the long run it would be harmful. You cannot very well function without it."  
  
"Christine I'm serious," I had been waiting for this moment. "Will you marry me?" Christine looked surprised. She then looked over towards the mirror quickly, and looked back at Raoul's expectant face.  
  
"Of course I will Raoul." My heart shattered. Any civility that remained within my heart quickly left. Blood-thirsty anger rose and spread through me. I kept my eyes on them not because I wanted to, but because if I did not, I would shatter the mirror and strangle them both. I watched as he slipped the large engagement ring on her finger. She gasped. I turned away for what seemed like a brief second, but when I turned back a year's worth of things had happened. There was Christine and Raoul on the couch kissing as passionately as I have ever heard. I was about to choke myself with something, anything, when I heard Christine say.  
  
"No Raoul, not yet it is not proper. No! Raoul stop please, not now. Raoul!" she finally exclaimed hitting him. He quickly got up. I stormed away to grab my pistol. There was nothing I could do about it now. Not only had he taken away Christine, my angel, my muse, and my love, but now he was trying to take away her virtue. It was more than I can stand. A man like that does not deserve to live. I was halfway back up towards Christine's room, and heading to the passage connected to the mirror in the room next door when a voice called out,  
  
"Erik, where are you going with that?" It was Christine's of course. How she managed to find me in the passage I do not know.  
  
"Mademoiselle, I strongly suggest you remove yourself from my field of vision before I accidentally kill you. We madmen are totally uncontrollable when we are in a rage," I began walking once again.  
  
"He is there no longer. You will not find him. I know what you saw, and I know what you are wanting to do. I will not allow it." Christine spoke calmly as she started walking towards me.  
  
"You knew I was there all along, yet you let him do those things to you, and you accepted him?" I was momentarily distracted from my purpose.  
  
"Of course I knew you were there. You're always here when Raoul's here. I can hear you breathing." Damn! I had thought I was so careful. But did she know about the late night trips with her alone.  
  
"But you don't love him as much as you show. I heard you say so yourself," she seemed taken aback, so I came to the conclusion she did not know. "And since that is the case, I shall feel no qualms in killing him. This foolish scheme of yours to protect him by keeping him away from me is gibberish. As you once said, once I decide someone is to die it is only a matter of time. Similar to the red death." Christine was confused by this seemingly cryptic remark, but I went on, telling myself it would only be a matter of time. Then I remembered the Vicomte was not there.  
  
Turning in rage I stormed back to the House Beyond the Lake. I saw Christine, and she screamed in fright. I pushed Christine out of my way. I heard her fall but didn't care. If only my Opera had not finished itself! This is the kind of mood that brought on some of my greatest work. Perhaps I would just do one song of a new Opera. A sequel to my Don Juan.  
  
Later that night, I woke up once again from the keys of the organ. Something inside told me to pick up the knife lying on the table nearby. I grabbed it and almost mechanically put on my cloak and hat. Looking through Christine's mirror I saw the Vicomte in there with her. He kissed her quickly, and began to make his goodbye's. I hurried toward the other mirror. If I made it out now, I would be in place as he walked by, in perfect position to stab him, and he being no better off. I hid behind the door and waited. I heard Christine's door close, and footsteps. Silently, I struck. I was off the mark though, and I heard the person fall to the floor wounded. Looking closer, I gasped in agony. It was not Raoul I had stabbed, but Christine! And now she lay on the floor, slowly bleeding to death. A widening red pool of blood spread out around her. I had stabbed my Christine! What was I going to do? 


	17. Effective entrances, and grand exits

A/N: For all of you who love my story, how come you didn't review? You're all just lucky I really wanted to write! :) Also, for the masquerade I'm going with Erik's face instead of the skull mask in the play.  
  
I knelt down, my heart breaking, over Christine's body. Suddenly she sat up, her hand clasping mine, and with her last breath she spoke to me.  
  
"Erik, I have forgiven you for the blood that was spilt. Now in turn, please forgive me." With that, she lay down lifeless.  
  
I, on the other hand, woke up with a start. I wildly glanced around, making sure it was in fact my drawing room, and not the hall outside Christine's dressing room. There was no blood anywhere. Glancing at the clock on the table next to me, I found it was nearly seven o'clock in the morning, too late for me to be sitting here. I never dream, so that's one reason why I had believed this dream was real. Also, it was so terribly vivid and accurate.  
  
I also had a feeling it was trying to tell me something. It was out of the question now to kill the boy. I could not do it, for fear of hurting Christine. Not physically, like in the dream, but emotionally. I had had some experience with people whose souls have seemingly died, though they remain alive. For all the good it does them, they may as well be dead physically also.  
  
I quickly changed out of the wrinkled clothing I had on and into another suit. I of course had to make my rounds and make sure everything was being set up to my satisfaction. If anything was not perfect, things would not go as I planned. As with all my plans, perfection and absolute cooperation was necessary.  
  
But I assume you are wondering what I mean by cooperation. Everyone would have to do certain things at certain times. How would even I be able to coordinate this, you ask? Very simply. Either I would tell people what to do, or they would be doing it anyway so it wouldn't matter. I could already tell you that Christine and the Vicomte would be at each other's side all night long. The manager's and everyone else would be celebrating the fact they hadn't heard from me for so long. Looking back, it was a wonder I hadn't contacted the managers. Carlotta wouldn't dare tell anyone of her encounter with me. She would act as though she too had not been bothered by me since I made her croak. Of course, knowing all this now somewhat took away all the amusement of seeing it tonight.  
  
I could not figure out what to do about Christine. At our last encounter, I had behaved incredibly rudely to her, and I had even terrified her. My dream had told me to forgive her, but how? It would be difficult to try to return our relationship to normal when she had been plotting to kill me, and then I almost killed her fiancée. It would be a very awkward situation. There would be only one way to communicate this message to her. Through song. Through words, but only words she would understand. No one else could know.  
  
While most of the ballet troupe and Christine, were down helping to get things ready, Carlotta was in her dressing room getting ready for masquerade. There was still about seven hours before the doors opened to let people in, and she did not even leave her room for lunch. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. Most of the girls left at three o'clock in the afternoon to head home and to their dressing rooms. Christine did not.  
  
Christine had vanished. I looked all around the Opera for her. I looked on every floor from the roof to the main floor. With some hesitance I looked through all the cellars. She was nowhere to be found. She was not at the edge of the lake either. She had left the Opera, which was curious since her costume was hanging in her dressing room wardrobe.  
  
She reappeared at six o'clock, hurrying into her dressing room to begin getting ready. I also hurried down to get prepared. It would take me less time than most other people, since I of course wore no mask or face paint.  
  
As a whole, my ensemble was not for comfort but for show. It was certainly lavish. I would surprise everyone there. There would be no way for me to lose. Seven o'clock came sooner than I would have liked. I stayed in the shadows at the party, and no one really noticed me. I was set to come out at the stroke of midnight, just like the Red Death in Poe's story. I highly doubt anyone had read "The Masque of Red Death", but it was still disconcerting. At least I hoped it would be.  
  
The hours seemed to tick by slowly. I observed Christine and the Vicomte fluttering about, as well as the managers in their matching skeleton outfits. At eleven fifty-eight, I made my way toward the head of the stairs. It was time for the show to begin.  
  
At the sight of me, I counted at least ten women fainting. Everyone grew silent as the clock finished striking for the twelfth time. I descended the stairs, one at a time.  
  
"Why so silent good Monsieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me good Monsieurs? I have written you an Opera. Here I bring the finished score...Don Juan Triumphant! I advise you to comply, my instructions should be clear. Remember, there are worse things than a shattered chandelier!" I threw the manuscript at Monsieur Andre, since he looked like he had a few more sparks of intelligence in his eyes at the present moment.  
  
With that, I turned towards Christine and beckoned her nearer to me. She walked forward slowly, but not fearfully. Apparently I had misread her feelings. I looked at the engagement ring on the chain around her neck and smiled to myself. So she could not wear it on her finger?  
  
"You're chains are still mine, you will sing for me!" She nodded slightly, and I knew she understood. I ripped the ring off the chain around her neck, and slipped it in my pocket. With that business taken care of, I made my silent entrance. I counted to ten before total chaos took over the Opera. 


	18. Reflection

And so, my readers, my tale draws to a close. I certainly hope I didn't bore you who understand. For the reader's who did not understand before, I hope this has given you an insight. I hope that you now understand.  
  
Maybe some of you are confused. What did Christine understand? How did I apologize? Simple. The morning after the masquerade she showed up for a singing lesson. I returned the ring, but she proceeded to throw it into the lake. I apologize for this omitted piece of information. I had not realized it was previously unknown.  
  
Remember always, that music is not for some, it is for all. Let it guide you. Remember what you have learned from me, and carry it with you always. I know many of you already do, and will continue to do so for the rest of your lives. It is you whose souls shall grow and prosper.  
  
I bid you adieu. 


End file.
